


Matchsticks

by thespicyricey



Category: Koi Suru Bou-kun | The Tyrant Falls in Love
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M, Painplay, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Wax Play, because then i do shit like this, but i promise this isn't abo, hinako can't just hint at fetishes and then dip, kanako talks back, mentions of pheromones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespicyricey/pseuds/thespicyricey
Summary: Souichi can't seem to stop getting himself accidentally hurt, and Tetsuhiro hovering over him like a starved wolf certainly isn't helping.
Relationships: Morinaga Tetsuhiro/Tatsumi Souichi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written with the sole purpose of being unsatisfied with the fact that Souichi's closeted fetishes are just mentioned once and then forgotten and that having been not satisfying for me. Takes place after volume 13.

The first time it happens, Tetsuhiro wonders if he had somehow fallen ill again and was not in his proper mind. 

He had been helping Kanako with her secondary school take-home work as he simultaneously worked in the kitchen, having been given an ample holiday to spend time with his loved ones thanks to his dedication and strenuous work under Kuze-san’s wing. His boss had been debating only awarding him two free days over their Christmas break since the man was, in fact, quite dependable, but after the recollection of his collapse that past spring, he had given Tetsuhiro the week off. 

Which, in hindsight, had been every bit as cathartic as Tetsuhiro knew it was going to be. Souichi had not had reason to be at his throat as of recently and had been rather simple lately with his little sister in tow. His little sister, dead clever as she was, had heard wind of Tetsuhiro’s vacation and had begged her brother to come over and spend time with them, more specifically her brother’s roommate who she seldom was able to see. Souichi would have never let her travel to Hamamatsu to bid the man good tidings when she had school the very next morning and no place to spend the night. 

Moreover, Souichi had become perhaps a little bit lax the past few days with his sister and his roommate within arm’s reach once more. His temperament had been laughably tranquil, actually; when it was time to run errands at the market, Souichi was well-behaved and polite in front of his little sister, nary a disruption to be found, and when it became suppertime and Tetsuhiro had been frying up Kanako’s favorite miso-glazed cod, Souichi had multitasked between pestering his roommate about offering his simplistic assistance and listening intently to Kanako explain her day and how she had sat with her best friend, Tamayo, during break. 

With a gentle smile, Tetsuhiro had reassured him that he had everything under control and that their supper would be ready any minute now, so Souichi could be a little bit patient and make quality conversation with his little sister. He had lit several currant-rouged taper candles upon the dining table for added ambiance, the box of matchsticks sat inches away just in case - a gentlemanly little gesture that served to only boost his aesthetic, and, quite frankly, annoyed the shit out of Souichi to the point that he could see how shit-eating and self-indulgent his subordinate was feeling. Being that he was entertaining, he would behave himself in front of his little sister, whom he seldom managed to be around. Tetsuhiro knew how far and few between their talks had become lately, with Souichi battling his living situation with Tetsuhiro away. And, well, they couldn’t exactly offer Kanako a room to keep here, since their apartment oftentimes could be quite… _lively_. 

So, as the day ticked on and the minutes melted by, Tetsuhiro stood at the stove with a smile glued to his lips and the familiar tenor of Souichi’s grumbles from the dining table flitting into his ears as Kanako asks them a question, Souichi struggles to answer it, and Tetsuhiro finishes for him. “I’m not _stupid_ , Morinaga,” the man glares at his subordinate over the rim of his glasses, as he presses his chin into the heel of his palm where he’s got his elbow propped up on the table. “You don’t have to answer every single question for me. I can help her, too, you know.”

He can’t help but laugh, just a little because Souichi never _once_ took statistics when he was still tribulating in university. “Senpai,” he grins, glancing over his shoulder as he gently bastes the fish by dipping his wooden spoon in the garlic-miso oil and dripping the liquid down the spine of the filet. The dark tufts of his hair curtain his tapered brows and his rounded ears cherubically when he begins to feast for pity. Souichi would highly prefer if the smug little jackass could fucking drop dead one of these days. “If Kanako were preparing for a chemistry exam, you would be the first that she could run to. You are her brilliant older brother, after all - it’s only right for her to follow in your footsteps.”

“Don’t downplay me, moron,” the blond grumbles unhappily, rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to his sister’s homework. “Alright, which one is next?”

Feeling a little bit out of place, Kanako taps the eraser-end of her pencil onto her worksheet and reads the next problem in line, satisfied with Tetsuhiro’s answer in her writing for the previous question. “State the difference between quantitative data and categorical data if an experiment was conducted with a group of five-hundred teenagers, during which they were asked their age, their gender, their sexual preference, and list the amounts of each presented.”

Despite his extensive knowledge of experiments and hypothesizing their outcomes and their downfalls and adjustments, Souichi is not very acquainted with probabilities and technicalities, and the lack of what he knows pisses him off. “Well, quantitative refers to capacity within an experiment, so its data probably refers to how many of that grouping there are. Right?”

It does not go unnoticed how the man sends a questionable glance to his subordinate, who hovers over their shared kitchen appliance and turns the dial down to medium-low. “You’re on the right track, Senpai, but quantitative data refers to a numeric variable, and categorical data refers to other non-numeric variables that relate to the experiment.”

Souichi grits his teeth at the table as his fists inadvertently clench, because this fucker is _seriously_ grinding his gears, stealing all of his thunder like that. Just for once, can Tetsuhiro _not_ fucking be such a smartass? The last time he checked, the surname on Kanako’s birth registry had been Tatsumi, which meant that Souichi was going to be her knight-in-shining-armor scholar of an older brother if it fucking _killed_ him, and Tetsuhiro was not going to get in the way. “Did I ask you?” Souichi barked out, causing his little sister to jump a little in her seat beside him. “Do you mind if I answer my own sister’s question, you idiot?”

“Souichi-nii,” the girl coos by his side, pulling on his sleeve a little bit. She had just meant to study for her advancement-placement exam tomorrow afternoon, not enrage her older brother. “If Morinaga-san knows the answer, then he can help me, too! The two of you can share your ideas and come up with an answer together if that would be okay.”

“Kanako,” her brother mumbles under his breath, “don’t let this senseless idiot act like he knows everything. I taught him everything that he knows - you understand?”

Grinning, Tetsuhiro taps the wooden spoon on the edge of the saucepan and turns off the flame. “I heard that.”

Oh no. Kanako had not intended to cause tension between her brother and his roommate, and as Souichi stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest and turns a sharp nose upwards in abstinence, long hair trailing slovenly down his back, it appears that she has done exactly that. Sometimes, she wishes her big brother was not so contumacious. What if he had made Morinaga-san uncomfortable? “Nii-san,” she complains as she sighs, dropping her pencil onto the table and threading both of her small, salmon-polished hands into her dark hair in frustration. “I think maybe it would be better if I go and study at Matsuda-san’s house.”

“What?” Souichi startles, his countenance immediately faltering. It seems as though he were not the only one, however, as Tetsuhiro has frozen in his spot in the center of the kitchen with a plate of food in each hand, two that he had been planning to serve to his lovely guests before he seated himself. “ _Why_? I could tutor you just as well as Matsuda could. And don’t you even _dare_ think about calling Isogai for the answers - I’ll come right down there and kill him.”

As she packs up her homework and tucks it into her polka-dot folder, Kanako passes a defeated glance to her brother. “I don’t want to cause problems between you and Morinaga-san. The test is tomorrow, nii-san, and if I want entry into the advanced-placement course, I really need to study. I could call Tomoe-nii if I need to - okay? Or, if it gets too late over there and he may have fallen asleep, I’ll call you instead.”

“Kanako, we can help you,” Tetsuhiro vouches as he steps forward and places Souichi’s meal down onto the placemat in front of him, shooting him a small smile as he does so in confirmation that he does not need to be thanked - Souichi would find it embarrassing. “Perhaps Senpai would not like to bother Matsuda-san with something like this - she might be busy. It _is_ a Saturday, after all. We might be intruding on her time too thoroughly.” 

Despite the reassurance, the girl appears rather close to tears as she gazes up at them, unsure of whether or not to accept the plate of food that resides in Tetsuhiro’s right palm. “Are you sure?” She asks carefully, and the man takes the progression of their conversation to set her food down and to let her decide whether or not she would like to stay to eat. “I don’t want to upset nii-san like this, Morinaga-san. He’s been through enough recently.”

“Kanako, I’m _not_ upset, for the _last_ time!” Souichi shouts out in frustration, banging a fist down onto the table and causing the glassware to clatter noisily as the foundation shakes, the box of matches trembling shrilly. His guests jump in surprise, startled by the man’s outburst, but Kanako finds herself letting out an audible gasp as one of the taper candles, a shorter one with a thinner base, tips over and rolls and flickers out, dripping garnet wax in its trail across the table, including across the bone of Souichi’s left wrist. “Ah - _shit_ , fuck, _jeez_ \- ”

He hisses and abruptly stands from the table, his chair clattering loudly behind him as he swings his hand in pain and grimaces behind his lenses. His sister flies out of her chair and brackets him with her small hands, unsure of how to help him, and within only a few seconds, Tetsuhiro has a hand wrapped around the man’s elbow as he walks him rapidly to the kitchen sink and runs the burn under the cold tap. “Are you okay?” Tetsuhiro asks a little too quickly to remember his formalities, a little too anxiously to care. “You can’t be so careless, Senpai!”

Being that it had been merely candle wax and not, say, boiling stove-top oil, it had stung. _Really_ stung, to the point that Souichi had felt like he was on fire. After several seconds, though, and after having the wax rapidly harden beneath the icy water, the sting had completely gone away and left him just a little bit pink beneath the wax where he angrily rubs the bits off. “I’m fine, you idiot. What did you have to go and light those stupid candles for?”

He could laugh, really. So it’s _his_ fault that Souichi knocked a candle over onto the table and dripped wax onto his skin. It’s moments like these where Tetsuhiro somehow almost wishes Souichi had been a little bit _more_ injured, that way the man would need his attention longer, and somehow - somehow… 

He smells different?

Narrowing his eyes, Tetsuhiro turns his attention back to the burn and turns the faucet off, patting the man’s wrist dry with the handkerchief which hangs from the cabinet handle. “Senpai,” he sighs. “I would like to have a nice homemade dinner, just the three of us, and I know that Kanako very much wants that, too. If you would like me to stay out of your way while you help her study after we take a break and eat, I can do that. I’ve been meaning to catch up with Hiroto-kun, anyway.”

Scoffing, the blond pulls his hand out of the man’s hold and crosses his arms over his chest once more. “Oh, and why should I believe you? Do you think I would actually fall for this nice guy act you’ve got going on? Am I supposed to believe that you would do _exactly_ what I would ask you to do for once? I know what you want, you idiot, and you’re not getting it.”

“Nii-san,” Kanako whispers beside them, and Souichi looks sharply to his side to meet her worried, shimmery eyes. “Can we just have fun?”

His lips part with a soft sound as his arms struggle to straighten, though his naturally stubborn instincts fight it. He hadn’t wholly thought about just how much of a disruption he had caused until he sat back and assessed the situation as a whole. He had caused his sister unnecessary stress, hadn’t he? When she looks as depressed as she does now, gazing up at him with those beady, sooty eyes that she inherited from their late mother, the same eyes that their brother Tomoe had inherited and Souichi had not, he does not find himself angry. He could never be angry at her.

Sighing, he lifts a hand and smooths down the unkempt strands of his sister’s dark, silky hair. “Forgive me, Kanako,” he mutters soothingly, and his sister grins as her eyes water and she rushes forward to wrap her arms around him. “I will see to it that you succeed - you understand? When we are done eating, we will resume studying until you remember everything and feel comfortable enough to take the test.”

She smiles up at him and wraps both hands around his scalded wrist as she says, “I’m sorry about the commotion, nii-san.”

“That would be my fault,” Tetsuhiro pipes in with a heartwarming laugh, stroking over his nape with a chaste palm. “I didn’t mean to make you worry so much, Kanako - your brother very much wants you to do well tomorrow and is only thinking of how to better convey his thoughts so that you understand him. I didn’t mean to freak you out and he didn’t mean to get hurt.”

“Don’t act all high and mighty!” Is what is stated harshly as their supper haphazardly resumes, despite the lack of organization in the preparations. Kanako’s school folder still lingers on the corner of the table, and if he looked closely enough, Tetsuhiro could spot one or two miniscule droplets of dried wax near the napkin holder. 

“Any time, Senpai.”

“Morinaga is simple,” Souichi frowns as he hands Kanako her cutlery and watches as his sister begins to cut her filet into bites. “Don’t listen to a simple man if you want simple answers - we strive for academic acceleration, which means you have to try your best to become the top of your class at all costs. If you do, I will tell father to reward you for your grades, and we will buy you a laptop to use for school.” 

With a mouth full of cod, the tips of Kanako’s chopsticks fall from her glossy lips. Her own laptop? She could finally email Tamayo and even Tomoe! Now she would never accidentally miss her brother’s communications due to their difference in time-zones. “ _Really_?”

“ _Only_ for school!” Souichi chastises, even as his sister gleams up at him in all of her glory and begins to eat quicker, likely to hurry up and resume studying to gain knowledge at the promise of a reward. "If I find out you're abusing it, I'll take it right off of you."

Tetsuhiro finds himself chuckling as he seats himself, too, and brings Souichi’s plate back to him. Even though he had proclaimed himself as the utmost-important tutor for his younger sister, Souichi does not look placated and proud. Rather, he looks a little bit embarrassed - or, shy? His cheeks have just slightly pinked as he takes a bite of his supper, flushed just a tad beneath his eyes, and Tetsuhiro cannot tell if his eyes were deceiving him or if it were maybe the lighting tricking him. 

After all, he has done nothing to cause Souichi to blush.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souichi can't seem to stop getting himself accidentally hurt, and Tetsuhiro hovering over him like a starved wolf certainly isn't helping.

The second time it happens, Tetsuhiro is too taken aback to think of this as just a mere coincidence.

Souichi had been acting much more cautious than usual - and that’s saying a lot. Whether it was a day where Kanako was visiting them at the apartment, watching a rerun of her favorite teenage-targeted variety show on their couch while Tetsuhiro had been brewing ylang-ylang tea in an attempt to ease Souichi’s unerring stress, the man was skittish. _Too_ skittish, perhaps. Tetsuhiro wondered quietly, in the deep recessions of his subconscious, if he were having déjà vu and perhaps Souichi was having wet dreams, again.

However, that didn’t make a lot of sense to him, either, since Souichi was not obsessively cleaning his bedding after sleeping, and he certainly was not doing it secretly, either, to keep it from Kanako. If the man were not having orgasms in his sleep, again, then why was he acting like Tetsuhiro was the plague? 

In the end, he decided not to dwell on it, for questioning Souichi about it would only aggravate him and drive him further away. Sighing delicately, he loops a forefinger through the handle on the mug of tea that he had set aside for his beloved, and pads quietly into the living area. His socked feet mold to the plush carpet as the blond comes into frame, seated stoically on their loveseat as he glares over the rim of his glasses into his laptop screen. Despite his roommate having been given a plentiful vacation from work, Souichi still had two days left in the semester before their Christmas break. Tadokoro had offered to take over the man’s work for him for the last two days, but Souichi had politely yet sternly refused. Useful or not, it was Souichi’s grade over Tadokoro’s. 

“How is the data collecting, Senpai?” He finds himself asking as he places Souichi’s brewed tea down onto a coaster and makes himself comfortable on the loveseat beside the man, remaining several inches away to give him his much-needed personal space. Kanako had visited them today, much like she had yesterday, but had asked very politely if she may take a bubble-bath with her new bubble soap that had come in a care package several weeks ago from Kurokawa-san, as a gentle apology for causing Souichi and his family so much stress. Tetsuhiro had certainly not refused her request and had made her feel very much at home as he set out her towels and lined up the bottles of soap for her to use. Being that the girl was nearing fifteen years old and was still in the stage of self-absorption, Kanako could very well stay in the bath for a solid hour.

“Fine,” the student bites out a little bit too bitterly to be considered gentle. “Tadokoro emailed me this afternoon with the details of the progressional aging of the cultures, and he has put me in charge of recording the data into a spreadsheet to hand to Professor Fukushima this Friday.”

Raising an eyebrow, Tetsuhiro takes a ginger little sip of his tea and glances at the screen. “Do you need any help?”

Almost instantly, Souichi glances at him with an aggravated grimace, as though Tetsuhiro had asked him something positively _revolting_. His hair waterfalls loosely down his shoulders and collarbones in soft, unshapely waves that glimmer with a slight golden sheen beneath the ceiling lamp. “Do you want to die?”

Pursing his lips, Tetsuhiro backs off. “Well, I know that it is your final exams week, Senpai, and I know you’ve been a little bit anxious, lately. I made you some tea if you would like to drink something - it’s just some ylang-ylang leaves and a lavender stalk to calm your nerves.”

“Don’t baby me, Morinaga,” he complains with a roll of his eyes, gently smacking his fingers against the laptop’s trackpad in aggravation. “I hate when you pamper me like this - it’s gross.”

Tetsuhiro would not consider it pampering, per se - rather, his Senpai likely does not realize how thoroughly he may need a little bit of rest and recuperation, having been slaved over his laptop for several hours now filling out his final spreadsheet of the semester. “Awe, don’t be like that, Senpai,” he coos gently, reaching forward to press the pads of his fingertips to Souichi’s coaster and with a gentle nudge, he edges the small circular disk a few more inches toward the man’s perimeter. “I made it special, just for you - won’t you try it? You might like it.”

“You’re _not_ getting lucky tonight,” Souichi deadpans, glaring at his subordinate within the thin golden frame outlining his vision. “My sister is in the fucking bathtub - don’t even think about it.”

Well, it’s not quite what had been on Tetsuhiro’s mind, but he’s at least somewhat glad to see that Souichi is still the same as ever, overworked or not. “Senpai,” he murmurs with a sneaky little smile, crooking the corners of his lips upwards. “Are you a bit tense all because you miss me a little?”

Smack. Tetsuhiro groans and rubs the back of his head as a dull ache spreads across his scalp like miasmic blood vessels, virulent much like his affection for a certain graduate simply weeks away from receiving his master’s degree. “Who the fuck said anything about that?” Souichi hisses at him in frustration, borne from the lack of concentration he has to finish this spreadsheet that he only has two days left to complete. “Should I call Kuze-san on the telephone and tell him that you changed your mind about taking the rest of the week off since you want to act like an annoying dipshit? Unlike you, I have work to do!”

Tetsuhiro pouts. “That’s alright, Senpai, I’ll behave. I would truly like to help you with your spreadsheet, but if you’d rather complete it alone, I will get out of your hair. But, before I leave, please - would you at least take a sip of your tea for me?”

Two hindered, flaxen irises shift to meet his own as the student’s eyebrows raise just a tad, his cheeks flushing beneath his lenses. “Are - are you an idiot? Why are you asking me something like that? Don’t tell me you tried to drug me again - you can’t possibly be _that_ horny.”

“What?” Tetsuhiro rears back, as though he had been burned. “Senpai, no way in _hell_ would I be rash enough to fuck you on the couch while your sister is here. I just meant that maybe drinking a little bit of your tea would help you maintain your concentration. Won’t you try it? I made it special just for you and Kanako.” 

It’s not the fact that Tetsuhiro had prepared a beverage for him that irks him, but rather that he is acting quite surreptitious about it. He’s acting like he’s hiding something. “I’m watching you,” Souichi states as he slowly reaches for his mug without breaking their constant eye contact, gauging Tetsuhiro’s reaction. If this snarky little idiot had been hiding something like that, he would certainly not be able to lie or to hide it in his reactions. Still, as he raises the mug to his lips, Tetsuhiro does not budge. The man does not flinch, nor does he falter, to the point that Souichi could decide with confidence that he may not even be blinking. 

After all, it just smells like freshly-brewed herbal tea. 

He wraps both palms comfortably around the sides of the mug and takes a chaste sip, his roommate’s eyes flickering downwards to follow the motion of his upper lip catching the mug by the rim and the muscular chords in his neck working as he swallows. “It’s a little too hot,” Souichi pesters him flatly as he settles the mug comfortably in his palm, not yet having set it back onto the coaster. 

Then, Tetsuhiro smiles and reaches with a gentle hand to smooth the back of Souichi’s hair as it drapes down his back. “Ah, sorry about that, Senpai. I’m glad you like it though - I used those ylang-ylang leaves that we purchased at the bazaar in Osaka, the ones that you picked out because of the orange peels and the rose hips in the batch. Is it decent?”

Watching the man silently, and with just how innocently invested he seems in the man’s tastes, Souichi finds himself unable to conjure any anger within himself. “It’s good.”

Even if he is acting strangely, his subordinate does find much joy in knowing that he has satisfied the man’s cravings, perhaps if just a tiny bit, and Tetsuhiro cannot resist laying a gentle kiss to the top of the man’s hair. He’s so sweet. 

Blushing and flustering as though he were young again, Souichi’s heartbeat skips and his facade breaks right down the center as he leans further back to maintain his personal space, knowing very well what his lack of control may lead them to all while his sister is still beneath their roof. “Knock that off, you idiot!” He hisses in a whispered tone, not wanting to yell in fear that the girl may overhear them. “Kanako is still here.” 

“So what?” Tetsuhiro asks calmly, decisively, as he leans in for a wet kiss. “You are going to have to tell her about us sooner or later, Senpai. You can’t hide from her forever.”

“Don’t be so daft,” Souichi grumbles unhappily, attempting to scoot further backward into the plush safety of the cushions and away from the dangerous proximity of his subordinate’s pheromonal fog. “And what is this ‘us’ you think I should be telling Kanako all about? She’s a teenage girl - if she even so much as finds out that you kiss me in your free time, she’s going to tell Tomoe and Kurokawa the second she gets her hands on a telephone, you jerk!”

“And that’s horrible and the absolute end of the world, because…?” The man drawls, stroking along the warm valley of the blonde’s waist with his fingertips and dipping his head into the blond’s neck to softly suckle at his pulse. The student gasps and jolts a little, his skin beginning to buzz with the flirting nuances of awareness beneath his surfaces. 

“K-Kan,” Souichi attempts, making minimal progress before he forces himself to swallow with a parched throat and his larynx pulls taut. They should not do this - absolutely should not be doing this in their living den, with his little sister _yards_ away, and they definitely should not do this while Souichi is still holding a cup of tea. “Kanako and Tomoe gossip about _everything_ , you know - it… it won’t be like what happened with Tadokoro. If Tomoe finds out, it’ll… it’ll give Kurokawa reason to harass me about it - until the day he fucking _dies_ , you idiot!” 

Nevertheless, the threats remain baseless and still the man none, the unbiased length of his limbs effectively outstanding the student’s ability to run away, gently tugging him beneath the surface with languid kisses to the chords of his throat, an unusually erogenous area of the blond’s skin that can cause his joints to soften and his adductors to tremble. “Well, then, I guess you’ll have to be a little bit quiet, then.”

Startled, golden eyes widen. “You - you said you wouldn’t do this while she’s here.”

“No,” Tetsuhiro mumbles against the man’s skin, grinning as he nips at the ridge of his collarbone and hears a delicate, supple little whimper catch in his larynx. Despite the pleasured intonation within those marvelous sounds, Souichi attempts a firmness at the man’s biceps with his single free hand to wedge a boundary between the two of them. “I said I wouldn’t fuck you while your sister is here, Senpai. You never said I couldn’t kiss you.” 

“That’s,” swallowing brokenly, the student grasps at the strings of his mental sanity and claws his way out of the fog of arousal to muster up his strength, and gives an imprudent shove meant to drastically widen the distance between them as he shouts, “not the same at _all_ , you swindler!” 

It’s a little bit rarer, these days, for Souichi to use his full strength. Roughly a year ago, Tetsuhiro had gone completely off the radar for nearly twenty-four hours and Souichi had been beside himself with clandestine concern, even having gone so far as to have fallen asleep inside the terminal as he awaited the dawn-breaking wake of the subways. When the man had taken ill without his lover’s knowledge, Souichi had not been able to force himself to behave brusquely. Wherein Tetsuhiro had been practically defenseless, Souichi was certainly not one to lash out at him when he had no way of protecting himself or retaliating.

However, with Tetsuhiro alive and healthy and _certainly_ aware of the repercussions of their present actions, Souichi found no hindrances to keep him from being forceful, and he certainly did not regret it as he saw the traces of bewilderment within the man’s irises, volatility highlighting the juniper tones and deepening the traces of onyx in the upper hemisphere. Perhaps he had never taken the time to pay such scrupulous attention to his subordinate’s eyes, before, and how labyrinthine they seemed, for Souichi found himself lost in that gaze mere seconds before he found it contorted in disbelief, and felt the sultry licks of wet, but scorching heat blanket his loins as well as his abdominal region. Idiosyncratically, his back bows to relieve himself from the burn. “ _Shit_ \- ”

Great. Amid their tussle, Souichi had spilled his fucking tea all over them. 

He huffs in displeasure as Tetsuhiro scrambles off of the cushions, his clothing sodden from his thorax and streaking fully downward to his quadriceps, soaking his trousers. Inelegantly prostrate above the cushion akin to a prowling lioness harvesting from her prey, Souichi’s mind blanks as war rages within him, torn between insistently toweling the dampness in the parchment-pale cushions, or throttling Tetsuhiro until his windpipe disintegrates and he atones for ruining their pricey loveseat.

Gritting his teeth, Souichi battles forward with both palms until they smack wetly against the man’s clothed pectorals. “You senseless _moron_!” He hisses, hoping that their fumble has not already drawn Kanako’s attention from down the hallway. “This is why I said to keep it in your fucking pants!” 

He’s angry. He’s furious. He’s hopping _mad_ , he is, but is that, perhaps, a little bit of nipple he spies soaking through the man’s sodden blouse? That’s… distracting, to say the least.

Lips tightening, Tetsuhiro is resurfaced away from his thoughts as the enmity rising within him skyrockets when he realizes _just_ how much it is going to cost to replace the upholstery. “Why were you still holding your teacup, Senpai?” The man accidentally shouts, foregoing all of Souichi’s precautions to not alert the girl of their arguments nor their small hints of mischief. Within such abridged proximity, Tetsuhiro’s features have appeared to have gone harsh, austere enough to chill his blood upon sight, and Souichi’s protest falters. Was his roommate not concerned about the fact that Souichi could have given himself second-degree burns if he hadn’t waited to drink his tea? Why was he so angry? “Suddenly it’s my fault that _you_ spilled tea on the upholstery because _you_ didn’t put it back onto the coaster before I kissed you?”

Cheeks flaring with heat, Souichi grits his teeth as his lips scrunch into a taut line. “ _You_ brewed the tea!”

“ _You_ let me lay you down with tea in your hand, Senpai,” Tetsuhiro exasperates with open palms, aghast at what has become of their loveseat and the carpet beneath it. Thankfully, the leaves were not that richly pigmented, so he may not have to worry about staining, though he does fret that mold may start to grow if he does not aerate the cushioning properly. “You know damn well, by now, that you’re all I see when I’m in the mood, Senpai - you know well enough that we can’t both be venereally fulfilling _and_ responsible. One of us has to outweigh the other on either side.”

No - no _way_ is this imbecile making this _his_ fault. Fists curling, Souichi’s temper threatens to tip past its boiling point. “ _Why_ you _little_ \- ”

...Oh?

When his hands make contact with Tetsuhiro’s sodden clothing, the brunette’s broad fingers encasing his wrists with little effort, he pauses, and the taller man’s brows furrow, gaze narrowing down at him. 

Souichi smells weird to him, again. Different. It is not a scent of filth, nor a scent soured with embarrassment, but it’s rather… _sweet_ , and perhaps a bit earthy in the lower notes. It’s almost like… pheromones?

“Nii-san?”

Dressed in her favorite constellation-embroidered nightgown in a kind pastel mint, Kanako dabs at the locks of her damp hair with a small towel, socked feet dipping into the plush carpeting as she pads into the living area. The elegant shape of Scorpius trails up her collarbone to her shoulder, the prominent sparkle of glitters sewn onto the breadth of Antares gleaming in the light. She pauses in her motions as she stands in the doorway, unsure of why, exactly, her big brother is flushed bright red in the face, or why, exactly, his roommate is grasping his wrists with both hands, as though she had nearly walked in on a conflict. “Is… everything okay?” She asks timidly, blinking her large, wet eyes up at them. “I heard shouting.”

Suavely and without incident, Tetsuhiro swiftly pulls his hands back in a quick snap and straightens out his clothes in haste - his _wet_ clothes. Kanako’s eyes on them feel like the surface of the sun. 

Not only do they have some explaining to do, but Tetsuhiro is _positive_ that Souichi had not just flourished with arousal mere seconds before his sister had entered the room, so much so that Tetsuhiro had been able to fucking smell it on him. And now that he thinks about it, Souichi’s pulse _had_ run a little bit rapid towards the climax, there, wherein his cheeks had pinked whilst Kanako had returned.

He’s surely dreaming.

Taking a steadying breath, Tetsuhiro bares a chipper, if not forced, grin, and wipes the palms of his hands together. “Sorry to worry you, Kanako-chan. Senpai spilled his tea by accident when he was working on his final report, and I had been making sure that he didn’t burn himself. I just ran the kettle a couple of minutes ago - it should still be hot if you would like to make a cup for yourself.”

She’s quiet, unsure. “Oh,” she comments softly. “That - that would be lovely, yes. Um… is there… _really_ nothing wrong?” Kanako repeats herself. She knows that her brother is very short-fused and it’s, without a second doubt, nothing new that he and Tetsuhiro do not always see eye to eye, and sometimes, it can cause unnecessary stress for the both of them and she, somehow, always finds herself the middleman. When their house had burned down to the ground years ago, Souichi had gone on a pretty unrelenting tangent for weeks about having to room with Tetsuhiro in the meantime, since Matsuda was far too kind of a woman to pester. It had been just that, hadn’t it? It was only rooming. She still is not sure why her brother had been so adamant about not sharing his space with someone so sentimental. “I was about to go to the guest room to bring my dirty linens to the wash before Morinaga-san shouted like that. It's... not like Morinaga-san to shout, and I didn’t know what was going on, so - I came back down to make sure everything was alright.”

Sheepish, Tetsuhiro flushes and grins lopsidedly. “Ah, forgive me, Kanako-chan. I simply was concerned for Senpai’s well-being, you know? Just the other day, he burned himself with the candles.”

“That one was your fault, too!” Souichi snarls in annoyance as he balls his hands into little fists at his sides. “What did you have to go and buy taper candles for, anyway? Jar candles would have been safer!”

“Nii-san,” the girl deadpans, and her brother shifts into unhappy silence. This time, her countenance is unflappable, solidly structured as she frowns at her brother and watches him falter. “Why is it you are always bullying Morinaga-san whenever I come to visit? He treats you so nicely and cooks for you and cleans for you - you’re so _rude_.”

A gasp tumbles out of Tetsuhiro’s throat before he can stop it, entirely caught off-guard by the girl’s brazen attitude, something she _never_ has. Kanako has always blended mutely into the background of filial arguments, especially ones that Souichi started, himself. She would never have dared, months and perhaps years back, to raise her tongue to her big brother in defiance, as Souichi always knew what was best for the members of his family above their comfort. For her to go on strike this way while Souichi had been completely withheld from rebuttal, is startling, to say the least. 

“Kanako!” The blond abruptly yells, the flush across his cheeks darkening. It becomes all too clear just how embarrassed Souichi truly is, and how out-of-place he suddenly feels. Since when does his _little_ _sister_ tell him what to do? Scratch that - since when does _anybody_ tell him what to do? “Don’t misunderstand!”

Elongated legs clad in black stride languidly around them to stand in front of his lover, shrouding him in the comforting safety of being hidden. “Kanako-chan,” Tetsuhiro croons gently with a consolatory ruffle of the girl’s short hair. “Please don’t speak so lowly of your big brother like that - he is a particularly persevering man, you know. Everything he does, he does it for you and your brother, because he wants you two to experience the little joys that he may have never gotten to experience. Right?”

A scoff sounds behind his back. “I’m still here, you know.”

Charmed, Kanako purses her lips for a moment before grinning up at the man and saying, “I’m sorry, Morinaga-san! I’ll make sure nii-san is never mean to you ever again - you got that, nii-san?”

Then, precipitously, Tetsuhiro is shoved to the side by two small, forceful hands, sending him careening to the side with the ridge of his shins colliding with the truss of the glass coffee table, and he seethes and reaches down to nurse his legs. “Now, look here!” Souichi argues, fired up from that mere comment and ready to enter another battle. “If I am going to stop picking on Morinaga, then you are going to stop feeding information into Isogai every five minutes. Keep that creep out of your life, Kanako - you got that?”

In his literary hindsight, his beloved will always be somewhat of the same old Senpai that he had been six years ago. No matter how favorably their relationship may progress, tipping further with time toward a mutual bond that outweighs Tetsuhiro’s everlasting crush on him, he will always be brash, and he may always be rude, but he will always be the Souichi that he loves and knows like the back of his hand.

On the contrary, after recounting the fact that he is _positive_ that Souichi had emitted some sort of pheromone thereafter burning himself again, perhaps he doesn’t know Souichi as well as thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no I didn't totally forget about this what are you talking about

The third time it happens, Tetsuhiro loses all control and finds himself behaving in a way he never thought he would dare.

He loves Kanako very dearly - to absolute _bits_ , the girl is the apple of his beloved’s eye, one of the most resplendent stars in the luminous night. She is Souichi’s entire life, someone he would take a bullet for.

That being said, it does get only _slightly_ irritating when they’ve not had sex in several months, and Kanako wants to sleep over every single day. As a man of much respect, Tetsuhiro would never jump the gun and risk getting them caught - he does have _some_ sense. Souichi can be… well, _intense_ , to say the least. In terms of much more innocent acts of indecency, Tetsuhiro certainly had wild thoughts from time to time, and often found himself unable to hesitate from stealing a furtive kiss while Kanako’s back was turned, or while she had stepped out of the room. Souichi was simply far too tempting.

Today, the absolute icing on the cake of all days, Kanako had gotten a phone call from her best friend, Tamayo, and had been asked to sleep over. Tetsuhiro tried his hardest not to show the pent-up tension compacting him further with each passing day, and hoped that his approval to let her spend the night at a friend’s house had not sounded too forced. Souichi, on the other hand, had given Kanako an entire thirty-seven minute lecture on what _not_ to do at a sleepover, including leaving the house without permission, inviting people over, and - Tetsuhiro’s _personal_ favorite - having sex. 

Souichi had gone _bright_ red, his roommate struggling through his cup of tea to not choke himself to death. He didn’t necessarily think the day where the world’s Greatest Older Brother-Slash Guardian would have to give his younger sister the talk would be a day when Tetsuhiro had been borderline losing his fucking mind with arousal after an entire _week_ of his roommate heedlessly showing off his closeted masochistic tendencies. Souichi knew _damn_ well that the second Kanako got into her best friend’s mother’s car to be driven to their house, Tetsuhiro was going to jump him. From now on, it was only a matter of how long he could stall her departure. 

“You be safe, you hear?” Souichi says flatly as he smooths down the girl’s hair with a gentle hand, no longer having to kneel to her level to make eye contact - she’s all grown up now, nearly as tall as Tomoe and coming up to just about his collarbones. By the time she turns eighteen, he would wager that she may even gain another couple of inches in height. “I don’t want to get a phone call from the police station saying that they’re looking for you.”

“Nii-san,” the girl rolls her eyes with a little, tinkling laugh. “Really - what do you think I could possibly get up to? Tamayo-kun has older brothers and two moms, so I am almost certain that they would do anything to keep us safe.”

Taken aback, Souichi sputters over his words. “Tw - _two_ moms?” He exasperates, and the calming flutter of Tetsuhiro’s chesty laugh resounds in the background, filtering in from the porch. “And don’t you even think of doing anything with either of those brothers! I’ll know about it!”

“Alright, nii-san, I’m leaving,” she laughs, staring him playfully down, challenging him, as she spots Tamayo’s mother stood outside the door of their complex, waves a little, and unlocks the deadbolt. “ _Bye-bye._ ”

“Kanako, I mean it!” The blond curls his hands into fists and strides forward in an attempt to stop her before he’s gotten his point across, but a hand around his wrist keeps him anchored where he stands. 

“Senpai,” he hears behind himself, and he flushes in embarrassment as the porch falls into silence, the woman on the other side of the glass door hugging his Kanako with warm, welcoming arms and smoothing a hand down her back as they begin to chat while their figures start to grow smaller and smaller, blending down the complex’s staircase. “You have to let her go sometimes.”

“Don’t feed me your shit,” Souichi frowns. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“You chain her down a lot,” Tetsuhiro sighs, not daring to budge from their position, nor daring to remove his hand from the man’s wrist. “I know you love her dearly and I know you worry about her, but she can handle herself out there. The world is tough, but she is tougher.”

Scoffing, Souichi turns on his heel and wrenches his hand back, startling his roommate and causing his expression to vacillate between surprise and understanding. “And what do you know?” He bites, unable to stop himself. “You don’t have any younger siblings - you’re the baby of the family. You haven’t had to practically raise anybody all on your own, haven’t had to make their decisions for them and steer them in the proper direction. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Lips parting with a soft sound, Tetsuhiro’s chest sinks with empathy. “Senpai,” he whispers softly, “you know yourself - you know that you are strong and confident and everything that Kanako-chan has needed you to be. I know that nii-san and I are not role models for this particular scenario, but - ” 

“Don’t start with that,” the blond grimaces, pushing past him to stride out of the porch. He doesn’t want to talk about this. “You wouldn’t know what you were talking about if it bit you in the ass.”

“Senpai,” Tetsuhiro calls out. “I am trying to talk to you!”

He attempts to follow his beloved out of the porch, finding that Souichi has already gotten as far ahead of him as to manage to lounge himself on the loveseat by the time Tetsuhiro had already approached the doorway to the living area. “I don’t _want_ to talk, you idiot,” Souichi states with a frown, crossing his arms over his front and glancing away, shy. “And I _definitely_ don’t want to do whatever’s on your mind right now. I know what you want, and it’s not happening.”

Tetsuhiro could roll his eyes, really. He thought that they had grown past this whole rabid, prurient persona that Souichi had stamped upon him after the very first time they had ever done it. After all that he had done over the past several years, did Souichi really still think so lowly of him? “How do you know what I want?” He questions a little bit sharply, biting a little more than he would like. “All week, you’ve been acting strangely around Kanako and I, like you’re thinking about something and can’t get yourself to stop. All I want is to know what’s on your mind, Senpai. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Why are you always talking out of your ass like that?” Souichi grumbles, hanging his head. “Like you fucking - know me better than _me_.”

“Senpai,” Tetsuhiro reaffirms, not wanting to push it by sitting beside him on the loveseat or even so much as in the armchair adjacent to it. Instead, he settles himself against the doorframe, hooking one foot over the other and folding his arms in front of his chest. “What’s wrong?”

It’s a protracted period of time before either of them crack, the delicate silence between them further widening the gap between their hearts. Souichi’s heart is soft but guarded, something that he seldom opens the gates to, and Tetsuhiro knows that such a fracturable thing should not be toyed with. Still, with a heart of gold, Souichi can only be pushed so far towards the edge before he is going to tip off. “ _You’re_ what’s wrong!” He snaps, pulling his hands away from himself with a frustrated shake. 

Frowning, Tetsuhiro haltingly begins to uncross his arms. _He’s_ the problem? _Him_? “I’m… sorry?”

“You’re always in my head, making me think about things I don’t want to think about!” Souichi complains with an inhibited shout, combined with rapid, oscillating breaths, as though he had bottling up _months_ of stress that Tetsuhiro had no idea about. “And this whole week, with Kanako here, you’ve been making me feel weird without even doing anything and I _hate_ it.”

There it is. There is what Tetsuhiro had been waiting for _all this time_ \- Souichi _had_ been idiosyncratically exuding pheromones around him, and had been somewhat aware of it, too, or else he wouldn’t have been so angry. 

When he’s being this open with his emotions and his sensitivities, there’s no way Tetsuhiro can back down now. “Senpai,” he comments softly, leaning his weight off of the door frame but not taking a single step further into the living area - Souichi needs a little bit of space right now. “Are you aware of what you just said?”

Scowling, Souichi passes a sideways glance his way. “What are you on about now?”

That’s the thing - Souichi would never come right out and say exactly what it was that he had been craving deep down, having lead Tetsuhiro to search within his body’s reactions to physicality in order to learn more. However, over the span of the past week, Tetsuhiro would beg to differ in assuming that he needed _any_ physical contact, at all, to know exactly what it was that Souichi wanted from him.

And that, with some limitations and some rules set from the get-go, was something he could absolutely fulfill. 

Abruptly, Tetsuhiro moves from his spot in the doorway and strides past the living area to head to Souichi’s bedroom - something left unlocked during the day until Souichi would retire for the evening - and welcomes himself in. “Hey! Morinaga!” Souichi calls out after him, his legs jostling slightly where he sits on the loveseat, as though unsure if he should follow after him since it is _his_ bedroom he’s invading, by the way. Not wanting to be left in the dark, he stands from the loveseat and storms to his bedroom door and shouts, “Get out of there!” 

When he spots his roommate dropping _something_ onto his bed, however, he freezes in his spot.

Tetsuhiro has laid a foldable shoebox onto his bed, painted a sleek black with white marketable labelling on the sides. That box had been in his bedroom - in _his_ bedroom - somewhere. Souichi has never seen that box before in his _life_. “What the fuck is that?” He asks bitterly, embarrassed that the conversation - or, rather argument - they had been having had ended without much reprieve, and annoyed that Tetsuhiro had gone rifling through somebody else’s belongings without permission, let alone Souichi’s. “What was that thing doing in _my_ room?”

However, the man remains quiet. Dark hair falls past his eyes as he dips his fingers into the box and sorts through the items within it, as Souichi watches him in annoyance. 

“Don’t you dare tell me you were fucking hiding stuff in _my_ room, you pervert,” Souichi barks, attempting to get a rise out of his roommate. Still, Tetsuhiro maintains the silence, not giving in to his beloved’s pressuring banter. Souichi would not gain the upper hand in this situation.

When he’s deemed himself satisfied in taking inventory of his little collections of trinkets and thingamabobs in the shoebox, Tetsuhiro slips the cover back on, picks it up with both hands, and sets it onto the bedside nightstand. “Senpai,” he mumbles smoothly, gently, in that same genial, doting tone that always tends to make Souichi’s insides a little bit fuzzy. Souichi hadn’t realized that his roommate had moved so quickly until the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, and teasing fingertips were trailing effervescent sparks up the curve of his spine, causing him to gasp. The sensations force his back to bow, lifting his ribcage and pressing his chest closer to his roommate’s, until they were barely even brushing. “I’ve been saving something very special for a very special day, but the day never came when it was the most opportune time to use it. Would you like to try something new, today?”

He fucking hates how easy it is to get him in the mood - all Tetsuhiro fucking _did_ was just touch his back a little, and already, his heartbeat has begun to race. “I - ” he attempts, promptly realizing that his throat is much too dry, and swallows. “I already _told_ you, you’re - not getting any.”

He brackets the blond in with steady arms, pressing him back against the framework as he dips in for a quick, wet kiss. “Not even if you like it?” Tetsuhiro bargains gently, settling his thumbs in the dips of the man’s hipbones and pressing tantalizing little circles into his skin. 

“I definitely won’t like it,” Souichi verbally fights him, which makes it that much more humorous that his hands are lax against the height of Tetsuhiro’s shoulders, yet his attitude remains frigid. “Especially not if it’s something you hid behind my back, you weirdo.”

That’s a lie, and they both know it. 

After years of dealing with lies, though, Tetsuhiro knows how to rope him in and truly engross him. “I want you to trust me,” the man mutters against his lips, shifting closer to minimize the distance between them, until he can feel Souichi’s rapid, panting breaths puff against the dew of his lips. “Do you trust me?”

Swallowing once more, Souichi finds himself unable to tear his gaze from Tetsuhiro’s eyes. They are rich, plethoric with passion, and full of promise. The streaks of juniper which glow in the light promise him safety and protection, and he knows that Tetsuhiro would never do anything to hurt him. He doesn’t trust Tetsuhiro as a brief overview - the man is mischievous, sexually rampant, and sometimes unpredictable with his own health, but if he were outlining the details into a transcript, part of him does trust Tetsuhiro. After six years of accepting the fact that Tetsuhiro held feelings for him in secrecy, Souichi could consider trusting him. 

Lips parting and closing rapidly, as though searching for the words to say, Souichi blushes a deep scarlet as his gaze drops from the man’s eyes to his soft, peach-hued lips, curved in a pretty little dip at the center. “What nonsense are you speaking now?” Is his response, an attempt made to have been harsh and yet an attempt lost. “Would I let you do what you do if I… _didn’t_ trust you? Would I go this far?”

Tetsuhiro’s breath catches. There’s no way he’s being _this_ honest. 

He can’t help but gravitate forwards, catching Souichi’s delicate bottom lip in a searing kiss, and can’t help but to swallow down the moan that spills from the blond’s throat, soft and coquettish. 

It only lasts a few seconds, just enough to test the waters, but it’s also just enough to show Tetsuhiro how indulgent Souichi can be as the man flutters his eyes open, cheeks burnished with rouge, and watches him hazily. Tetsuhiro finds himself wanting to indulge in his own fantasies, too.

He’s been thinking about this all week - _all_ fucking _week_. 

His newly-formed hypothesis is far too intriguing to let rot away in the furthest crevices of his mind, so he decides to keenly test his privatized theory. He edges Souichi away from the door, guiding the man into him with the kiss of whispering fingertips up the dainty curve of his spine, and Souichi nearly buckles right into him. It brings his body away from the wall, and presses it flush against his roommate’s, enough so that if he were to shift any closer, they may accidentally kiss. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Tetsuhiro coos with an affectionate leer, gazing at him as though he were the most revered fabergéwork that he may have ever laid eyes on. Souichi is beautiful like this, taken down a single peg and coaxed gently open, lips swollen and rouged and eyes half-lidded and dark, as though wine-drunk, “but you need to start being more vocal about what you want, Senpai. When are you going to start telling me how you want to be pleased?”

Locking gazes as his hands curtain the sides of the man’s neck, Souichi lets out a shuddering breath and asks, “Did you seriously stop just to ask me such a stupid question?”

Ah. So he won’t say it.

Sighing, Tetsuhiro offers him a pressed grin. “What a shame,” he mutters, “because I really wanted to get a little bit creative and learn more about your body, Senpai. It saddens me that you won’t let me.”

He does not get a moment of reprieve, nor a moment to respond, before the man’s broad palms are gone from his waist and are hooked to his shoulders, the physical bond having roped them together suddenly severed, and with a gentle nudge coupled with the blond’s softened knees, he teeters back into the door until his upper lumbar collides sharply with the round of the knob.

A sharp gasp rings out into the silence, and a sudden burst of that _same_ scent infiltrates his senses as Souichi arches away from the door, shying away from the pain, and his breath catches in his throat. “Stupid fucking - _door_ ,” the blond hisses to himself, pressing fingertips into the dull aching across his lower back. “Can’t you do this kind of thing anywhere more convenient than the door, you asshole? That hurt.”

If this were a day like any other, he absolutely could have planned to make this experience more romantic. If he were not plotting to scavenge his body for information, he could absolutely have taken his time and laid Souichi upon the blankets and could have taken him diligently apart kiss by kiss. 

On the contrary, both he and Souichi knew that this had been no ordinary day. Hell, this had been no ordinary _week_. Therefore, he decides that it should be fair to say that his actions do not have to be entirely proper.

He normally would never dare to lay a hand on his beloved in a manner less than carnal, but today, when Souichi smells the way he does, cheeks flushed and his body alight with fetishized desire, Tetsuhiro feels himself snap. 

The back of Souichi’s head cracks dully against the wall as he’s thrust harshly against it, a rugged, soft mouth slotted roughly against his own as it swallows a hum of distress when the gentle ache spreads across the back of his skull. Everything happens far too quickly, the several highest buttons on his shirt unfastened as two large, warm palms hook beneath Souichi’s rear, lifting him a little way’s off the ground as he feels his zipper give way. The press of Tetsuhiro’s rigid form against his own is aggressive, racy, and it makes his heartbeat quiver. 

“Wait!” He gasps desperately, breaking the kiss as his skin thrums with arousal, scalding down to his dendrites and sticky where he’s begun to sweat. “Wait - _wait_ a second,” he stops this with hands on the man’s shoulders, and pulls himself out of the fog of insanity. Tetsuhiro’s eyes are dark, lidded, and _frightening_. His stomach flip-flops oddly. “Why - what are you doing? You’re being… too rough…”

Swallowing, the man stares him down, libido too high to think. “Too rough? Am I?” He asks gruffly, the chafe of his thumb brushing against Souichi’s creamy, hued cheek. “I’ve barely done anything.”

Souichi frowns, then, and pushes himself back a half-step to gather his bearings. “It’s time to stop,” he states breathlessly, pressing trembling fingers to his lips, swollen from their bruising kisses. They’re so warm, abused, and Souichi hates it. He does. “Kanako might come back, you know.”

“Why would she come back?” Tetsuhiro asks calmly. “We triple-checked that she had everything packed, and even gave her some money to keep on her in case of an emergency.”

Souichi doesn’t respond, merely glancing away with a scoff as the blush dusting his nose and his cheeks deepens. Tetsuhiro acknowledges that they both know that he’s right. “Haven’t I told you before not to think about other people when you’re doing it with me?”

Panting, the blond’s eyes widen as their gazes reconnect amid the dim, electric and bright even in the sub-par darkness. “Why you - ” he starts, lips flapping as he struggles to articulate a response more astute than such. “Who said we’re doing it? I told you already, you’re not getting any!”

Scandalously, he trails featherlight fingertips up Souichi’s spine, coaxing those same fingertips through strands of long, sandy hair, and gently tugging. It opens him up, makes him gasp as his head arches back and his chest rises, makes him blush, makes him _shake_ , knees knocking into Tetsuhiro’s legs as he grapples for balance upon the man’s sweater. 

“No,” the man hums with a cheeky, shadowed little grin as his knees bend to allow him to trail lower, allowing him to suckle a wet little kiss into the dip of Souichi’s throat, right at the apex of his collarbones. He startles, bucking up and hands jolting where they lay on the man’s sleeves as he bites down on his lower lip. He won’t lose this battle. “You said that while Kanako was here, we couldn’t do anything. Kanako is out for the night, so all bets, I would say, are officially off the table.”

With another calculated tug of his long hair, another kiss is embedded into the side of his neck, right at the base where he’s the most sensitive. He mewls, unable to stop himself, and digs his nails into the meat of Tetsuhiro’s back, leaning his head against his shoulder as skilled fingertips scrape delicate lines down his scalp. “St - ” he stammers, gasping, eyelashes fluttering, as he begins to succumb to the darkness within him, “ - stop, we - ” 

When he feels the fingertips leave the electrified expanse of his back and trail lower, skirting right around the front and sweeping slowly along his inner thighs and up the curve of his pelvis, he yelps quietly into the man’s shoulder, his thighs quivering beneath the cloth of his pants. As Tetsuhiro brings one of his legs up and hooks it around his hips, effectively lifting Souichi nearly all the way off of the ground, he’s quite pleased to see his partner staring right back at him with eyes equally as dark as his, as he subconsciously cranes his neck back into Tetsuhiro’s palm, quietly begging to have his hair toyed with once more.

Hook, line, and sinker. 

Souichi all but falls backward onto the bed, his roommate hawking over him zealously as though starved, stark topless and illuminated by the single golden light upon Souichi’s desk where he had left sheets of his notes and his haphazard textbooks. He’s frightening like this, too foreign from the softhearted, kind, and foolish Tetsuhiro that he knows, but fear isn’t what he finds himself feeling. He is given no time at all to formulate any sort of response before those chafing fingertips are against his bare skin, quavering as they fumble with the buttons to reveal inches upon inches of beautiful, creamy chest and stomach that only belong to him, skin which he traces with kisses as he goes. Souichi’s body tremors with every inch he covers. 

“Gorgeous,” he mutters thickly, absorbed, and dives right in to latch his mouth hotly over a pert, pink little nipple. “You’re so pretty, Senpai.”

Unable to help it, the blond gasps and grabs at him, at first clawing at his bare, tacky skin but sooner rather than later settling for winding a hand into dark, inky hair and holding himself steady there. It locks Tetsuhiro into place, not pushing him away nor pulling him further in, and his heart does a funny little leap at how insouciantly the blond has submitted to him. 

“So pretty,” the taller man mumbles beneath his breath, tracing the sensitive ridges of Souichi’s ribcage as though he were fingerpainting a Renaissance mural. “Let’s open you up a little bit, yeah?”

He manages to hold on through the sweltering sensation of a wicked, scorching tongue undulating across his areolas and gently flicking the buds of his nipples, toying with him like he was some plaything, but his control severely wavers as that tongue burns searing waves of wetness along his waistband, dipping precariously beneath the elastic. Tetsuhiro has seated himself between the man’s spread thighs, having reduced them to only their underclothes upon Souichi’s pristine silver bedspread, one that he knows he will have to dispose of after tonight. 

Ethereal, Souichi paints the most statuesque of portraits, laid out comfortably atop his pillows with his hips in the man’s lap, legs askew on either side of his hips as Tetsuhiro slips the pads of his fingertips beneath the cotton, stroking his thumbs teasingly along the delicate skin at the crooks of Souichi’s thighs. 

Too sensual of a touch too close to the heat of his arousal, Souichi arches back with a startled, strangled moan, fisting his hands into the comforter beneath himself. It’s too much of a tease, yet too empty of a sensation. He’s breathtaking as he lets out a hushed, “ _Fuck_ ,” under his breath, bringing a fist up to his mouth as he bites into the flesh of his knuckle, whimpering, trembling with the onslaught. The tremor of his thighs causes them to brush against Tetsuhiro’s ears, knocking his knees together and, quite literally, trapping his head in place when he dips his tongue into the man’s belly button again. It must do something beautiful for Souichi, to cause him to become this unrestrained. 

“That’s all it takes to get you wet?” Tetsuhiro chuckles against his damp skin, glancing up at him smugly as he lays another wet kiss down. Souichi has both hands pressed to his mouth, one curtaining over the other as he watches him intently, nervously, eyes shimmering with the promised kiss of unshed tears, breaths ragged and choppy. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

It doesn’t register immediately, until a warm thumb presses softly against the bulging head of the man’s clothed cock, and Souichi jolts with a loud whimper as his thighs contract. It’s the first coital contact they’ve had all night, and he’s begun to leak, his underwear protruding centrically as his cock strains within the stretch of the fabric, darkened and a little bit soaked where the head pushes upward near the waistband. “Don’t - don’t say that… kind of shit,” Souichi gasps behind tensed fingers, glimmering tears welling in the corners of his eyes. His normal aroma has become clouded with the sweet tinge of his excitement, a gentle musk flirting along his skin, and it’s every bit as familiar as Tetsuhiro knew it would be. He’s beautiful like this, as arousing as sin, and Tetsuhiro is absolutely mad for him. 

When he comes back up for air, Souichi’s eyes follow him like refractory glass, and the quiet promise of his secret toybox lingers thickly in the air. The last thing he would ever want was to scare Souichi, or to intimidate him, and so, as he glances over his shoulder at the box, he reaches out and threads his fingers with his lover’s. “Senpai,” he hums gently, skimming his thumb over the blond’s knuckles and attempting to soothe the sudden surge of fight-or-flight anxiety that has washed over his features, knitting them together. “I would never hurt you, or do anything that you truly didn’t like. I only want to make you feel good. Okay?”

Blinking sluggishly, like it takes actual effort to do so, Souichi takes in the smallest breath as a little pink tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip, making sure the skin is slick enough for the slide of words. “What are you,” he starts, finding it difficult to form words around the drought that has welled within his throat, parching him and rendering his words short in supply, “talking about?”

Ah. Tetsuhiro cannot help but chuckle a little bit, truly smitten, and he leans forward to press a gentle kiss upon Souichi’s inner thigh. It’s barely anything, the slightest touch of all, but it makes Souichi startle and buckle, his thighs tensing. “I’ve been watching you these last couple of weeks, Senpai,” he declares warmly, gazing at him as though he were the sun himself, their fingers entwined with a yet-unsealed promise, “while we’ve had Kanako here. I’ve seen how you’ve been dropping hints around me.”

It takes a short moment for it to register, before Souichi’s sharp, thin brows draw together and crease. “What the fuck are you talking about, freak?” He frowns, his common sense seeping back into his pores little by little as he finds his way back out of the fog. 

“Don’t deny it,” Tetsuhiro grins, stroking a chaste thumb down the crook of the blond’s loins. Souichi’s skin trembles beneath his touch, but he can vividly pinpoint how thoroughly he is refraining from reacting, despite the soak of his rigid cock against his underwear and the flush of peachy-pink having stained his décolleté. “All of the instances wherein you kept accidentally hurting yourself? They aroused you - didn’t they, Senpai?”

It’s not quite the response that Souichi had anticipated, something that takes his breath away and darkens his cheeks, and he finds himself unable to hold back from reaching out and swatting his open palm against Tetsuhiro’s cheek. The effort required to do so rouses him from the mattress, springing his torso upwards, and Tetsuhiro hisses through the sting. “Can’t you act normal for once?” He growls, frowning. “Don’t say that kind of shit.”

Tetsuhiro’s small, reddened tongue peeks out to wet the expanse of his lower lip, ensuring the slide is slick enough for words. “Why not?” He asks gently, the smile having been wiped from his face. “I’m only telling the truth. You can’t possibly pretend you don’t remember, Senpai.”

Bitterly, his jaw clenches as he turns over upon the sheets, laying on his side and wedging a sharp disconnect into their bridled conversation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tetsuhiro may be overly-perceptive, perhaps more so than the average mid-twenties man, and he may be actively working on strengthening his threshold for patience, but one thing he is not is coy. Souichi can tiptoe around the truth all he wants, for Tetsuhiro is not daft, and he certainly is not in the mood to play a round of riddling questionnaires. 

So be it. If Souichi wants to act so blissfully ignorant then Tetsuhiro will have to tattoo this reality into the pores of his skin. 

There’s barely a pause for a reprieve before Tetsuhiro has hoisted one of his thighs over his shoulder, pressing the other firmly to the mattress to spread them, and leans down, as though starved, to place a scorching kiss at their apex, right where the man’s joints connect to his pelvis. Souichi jerks, his voice hitching in his throat, and his heels drag against the grain of the sheets.

Tetsuhiro’s hands are rougher than before, pulling his hips forward toward himself with a luscious press of thumbs into the indentations of bones, and if Souichi were being entirely honest, the look in his eyes was also something far more stygian than he had seen before. He looks… _animalistic,_ almost. “W-wait, _wait_ a minute,” he mutters, swallowing thickly as he attempts to put some space between them to catch his breath, shaky palms resting upon perspiring shoulders. This is arousing him, quickly, and he needs to slow everything down. “I.. I thought you said we were doing… something _new_.”

Ah. “Well, I would like to,” Tetsuhiro answers him with a soft grin, dipping his tongue into his belly button one more, before he sits back up with Souichi’s hips comfortably nestled in the divot of his lap, legs adorning either side, “but I can’t just jump right into it, because you’ll hit me. Won’t you? I have to warm you up a little bit, first - can’t scare you off, now.”

Gritting his teeth, Souichi refrains from responding, because the novelty of Tetsuhiro’s foreboding sexuality remains largely unexplored, and quite frankly, Souichi is a little too afraid to explore it. Who _knows_ what kind of weird shit the man is into? “What,” he begins around a parched throat, swallowing deeply beneath soft lips as he tries to relax, “are you planning?”

A kiss. “Nothing that will scare you,” he reassures gently, sensing Souichi’s bubbling anxiety simmering beneath his skin. A lick, a soft gasp. “I promise, it’ll be something you like.”

Given that the man is in a truly bizarre mood, Souichi had become rather frightened rather quickly, half-expecting Tetsuhiro to tear his sweater down the middle and unveil the unmarred skin beneath. However, true to his word, his roommate does not barge his way into his body like a man starved, nor does he stress the fabric in his chaste hands. Compared to mere seconds prior when it had seemed as though he could simply not arouse Souichi quickly enough, Tetsuhiro seems a little bit perturbed, as though he were unsure whether or not to proceed forward. Confined to the truss of the mattress with little but his wits to him, Souichi does not much care for the mystery of his sudden pause. “Can you just do _something_?” He swallows, for the pathway does not seem lubricated enough to say something so brave. “Stop - just _licking_ me.”

Of course, he certainly could attempt to make a run for it; Tetsuhiro is rather lithe for how tall he is, which means that the gap his body makes beneath his armpit where he’s prowling over him remains wide. Souichi could fit through there, _easily._ He could call it quits now and run off to the hallway bathroom to take care of his body in peace, where he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed. 

However, the rationale of his conscience reminds him that not only is Tetsuhiro tall, his limbs are long, to boot, which means that if Souichi were to attempt a run for it, he would easily be caught in his tracks. 

Even so, the look in the man’s eyes is neither conniving nor is it surreptitious in any way - rather, it’s warm, as his lips curl into a gentle, tender smile that feels bizarrely like coming home. The thought causes the blond to dig his teeth into his lower lip, forcing the rise of effusive emotions to simmer back down before they overwhelm him. “Okay,” the man grins, the jade of his irises dimming as he smiles. 

If Souichi happens to be so facetiously oblivious to the consent that he gives, that he resorts to obduracy and impatience, then Tetsuhiro is certainly not fixing to look a gift-horse in the mouth. 

The dilemma at hand, though, is how he can finesse their coupling into an introductory passage to using toys, without frightening Souichi or causing him to panic. If he can manage to subdue the man into subspace deeply enough, he may be too clouded in pleasure to have much rationale. Surely, then, his walls will come down. 

It is with a grin on his lips, and a thrum to his pulse, that he dips a hand into the box at the very moment that he trails fingertips down Souichi’s pelvis, nowhere near oblivious to the way the man’s gaze dims in brightness as he sinks back into their shared concupiscent ambient. Teeth war marks upon the surface of a chaste bottom lip as nails delicately scrape at the waistband of his underpants, and all it takes is a gentle, yet sharp tug of closed teeth around a pert little nipple to have Souichi arching into his touch, silently obliging him to remove the very last barrier. 

With skin to bare, flushed skin, Tetsuhiro distracts him with the slick caress of the rigid tip of his tongue up the textured skin just beneath the head of the man’s cock, tracing the bulges as though meteorites to a constellation. The wet friction is too firm, too direct, too much stimulation in such a concentrated, sensitive area that it has Souichi keening high in his throat, hips jerking against Tetsuhiro’s cheek as his thighs contract around his shoulders. Poised at the apex of the man’s sex, he finds himself heady against the caustically gentle scent of Souichi’s arousal, musky and a little bit sweet, so enticing that Tetsuhiro hungers to discover if he could _taste_ it. 

It is by the depth of the eventide, when the moon is at its brightest, that he is two fingers deep, Souichi’s tacky, damp skin trembling and vibrating in pleasure beneath his very fingertips, that he draws languid, teasing circles across the man’s frenulum with the flat of his tongue. “St - stop - _nnh_ ,” Souichi begins to say in clipped tones, gaze unseeing as he bites into his fist with one hand and pulls at Tetsuhiro’s hair with the other, cock dark with blood against his abdomen and - _oh_ , fuck, **_oh_ ** _\- !_ Tetsuhiro’s middle finger has found a nice little spot to encircle within him, a spot that makes his muscles tense and sends tingles down his pelvis.

He leans back on his haunches to admire his work, all while refusing to cease the teasing motions of his fingers within Souichi’s rectum. “God, you look so good,” Tetsuhiro mumbles aloud to himself, unable to resist licking his lips as though a lion were preparing to devour its prey. His skin is peppered across his unmarred breast with kiss marks, growing deeper in color the further toward his waist they go. “Can you feel how nice and wet you are around my fingers?” He asks softly, punctuating the question with a sharp thrust forward, something that makes Souichi squeak in surprise and makes his legs tense. “Can you feel them fucking you, stroking you, nice and slow, just the way you like it?”

God, he will _never_ grow accustomed to the filth that pours from Tetsuhiro’s mouth when he’s aroused. “Shut _up_ ,” he manages to bite out between pants, idiosyncratically shoving his hips further down onto the man’s fingers to try and speed up the pace a little. If he's going to cum, they need to move this along. “Just - just sh - _shut_ it,” he gasps when Tetsuhiro’s movements do, indeed, quicken, without much preamble, at that. 

No, rather, Tetsuhiro takes things from zero to fifty in several seconds _maximum_ , fingers pressing and curling and fucking and twisting, drawing gasping, desperate moans from bitten lips as Souichi bundles up the covers in desperation, as though he may float away. “Oh - _oh!_ Mori _\- ahn…!_ ” he whimpers, eyes shimmering with tears as his head falls back, unable to maintain their eye contact any longer, not when Tetsuhiro is fucking him like this, with three fingers against his prostate and a wicked tongue against his frenulum.

He’s going to cum. He’s going to cum, he’s - 

Suddenly met with the soft _krr-shick_ of what sounds like a matchbox, followed by the familiar, spicy scent of… cinnamon?

Then, everything stops, right before Souichi is able to tumble off of his peak. The fingers still inside of him, having pulled back slightly to release the pressure off of his prostate, and Tetsuhiro’s tongue is gone altogether. Without much conscience, he whines aloud, pressing his head back into the pillow as he gives a desperate buck of his hips down onto the digits. He was so close - he was _so close_. Only two more seconds, and he would have cum. 

Shuddering, Souichi manages to gather his wits about himself enough to relax his hands against the sheets, unclenching his fists, and raising his head to meet Tetsuhiro’s gaze and give him a piece of his mind. “What are you - ” he starts to say, every cuss he could possibly formulate right on the tip of his tongue as he prepares to verbally batter his roommate for holding his orgasm back, but the words very quickly dissipate as soon as they had come, when he sees what it is in Tetsuhiro’s left hand.

It’s a candle, short and slender, mulberry wax presented in a frosted glass jar, with a _lit_ wick poised in the center. The man’s fingers glow with a slightly golden aura against the glass where he holds it, as the flame wavers and sways, this way and that. The soft light that it radiates glows warmly against Tetsuhiro’s skin, outlining the shadows befalling his contours and creating an ambience of mystery that Souichi does not very well like. “What are you doing with that?” He asks flatly, timidly, his tough demeanor melting away little by little as the predator prowls above him, ready to strike and conquer. 

Thoughtfully, Tetsuhiro gives a little rotation of his wrist, swirling the deliquesced wax around inside the glass. “I told you that I wanted to try something new today.”

At that, Souichi blanches. “You can’t be serious,” he pales. Is Tetsuhiro seriously proposing inflicting pain onto him in the hopes that it melts into pleasure? “What am I, a fucking dog? I didn’t say that you could do something like _that_!”

“Oh?” The man hums in mirth, gaining joy from teasing him. “Then what was with you constantly hurting yourself around here, then parading around here all hot and bothered, while I was exploiting my own compassion in assisting Kanako with studying for her exams?”

That seems to bring some life back into Souichi, igniting him in a different sense. “As if I was! You exploitative bastard!” He scoffs, attempting to bat the candle out of Tetsuhiro’s hand in the hopes that it tumbles to the floor, shatters, and the idea is forgotten about for the rest of their shared eternity. Nevertheless, with however high he manages to swing, Tetsuhiro reaches higher. The candle slips from Souichi’s wavering grasp as quickly as it had come, as Tetsuhiro raises it up and over his head. 

“I don’t think so,” the man chuckles, swirling the wax around once more. “Like you said, Senpai - I’m an exploitative bastard, alright. And I would like, if you would let me, to exploit even the desires that you keep locked away and hidden from everyone but yourself.”

Unable to escape, Souichi can only stammer wordlessly, his lips moving fruitlessly, as he fumbles desperately for an excuse to cut this whole escapade short and to save himself the embarrassment and humiliation of being made into a crayon-melt painting. “You’re sick,” Souichi spits out, hoping that acrid words will be able to penetrate through Tetsuhiro’s facade more thoroughly than excuses will. “You’re fucking sick in the head, you know that? You filthy fucking _maniac_ \- who would want to do this kind of thing with you? You’re lucky if a dog would fuck you!”

It’s a shot in the dark, it seems, but he had to try. Souichi’s arm shoots upwards at the very moment that Tetsuhiro leans over him, the candle held safely against his chest between broad shoulders. That is, however, until the flat of Souichi’s palm collides with Tetsuhiro’s hand, practically causing the man to punch himself square in the center of the chest. This movement, though, does not, in fact, cause Tetsuhiro to drop the candle, and for Souichi to end the encounter as the champion, victorious. 

Rather, the universe betrays him as the candle tilts against the force of his palm, causing the frosted glass to bump against Tetsuhiro’s skin, causing the melted wax inside to slosh around, and causing the tide to overflow.

A drop of transparent berried wax streaks flat against Tetsuhiro’s right breast, causing him to hiss and slightly retract, shoulders rolling, as the burn stings his epidermis and warns his brain that he’s aflame. It’s not until he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, that he realizes just the mess that Souichi has made.

Dark red wax has dripped and pooled across the flat of his abdomen, at the crease of his ribcage where the lower apexes meet, and slowly hardens and sets as it drips down his sides in warm rivulets. Paling, Tetsuhiro very nearly drops the candle altogether as the illusion cracks right down the middle, and he realizes just what has happened. 

It was an accident. Tetsuhiro blames himself, for not having been conscientious of holding a lightweight weapon, at the ready, and allowing Souichi within reach of said object. He should have been more careful in crafting the scene, perhaps going as far as to have tied Souichi’s wrists to the headboard beforehand. He should have expected his lover to be quite the live wire when faced with a new challenger in the bedroom, even if Souichi swears that he was fearless. 

However, none of that matters, right now. Not when Souichi is reacting like _this._

By the time Tetsuhiro’s gaze finds him amidst the flames, he’s arching back wordlessly, fingers tangled in the covers and lips parted in a mewling gasp as the muscles along his abdomen flex, contracting and releasing, as the wax cools and rapidly hardens along his skin. All along his limbs, he full-bodied shudders, his little cock kicking helplessly against his abdomen as it weeps against his belly. He’s shaking, clearly aroused by this, and Tetsuhiro cannot bear to look away. 

“Oh,” Tetsuhiro mutters softly with a surprised gaze, taking a quick glance at the cinnamon candle, before he breaks out into a mischievous, shit-eating grin. “And I thought you said you didn’t like this kind of thing.”

Gathering his wits about him, Souichi can barely suck in a full breath as his skin flushes in rosy tones amidst his arousal, the light in his eyes dimming as they glaze over. His skin is still buzzing, still a little bit warm, but the initial sting has gone. “Sh - shut up,” he snaps, hiding himself away behind his hands, and cowering from his own shame. “I’m _not._ ”

Hm. “You’re not?”

Smiling, he tilts the candle forward, letting several more drops land upwards of the first spill, dancing around Souichi’s tender breast. His chest jerks, lurching toward the pain and the heat, though he does his best to bite his moans back. “You’re not going to talk, huh?” Tetsuhiro asks rhetorically. “Let me hear you say it, Senpai, and I will stop.”

He gives Souichi several seconds of unbroken silence to respond. After those seconds, he is disappointed to find his lover no more than pouting behind his balled fists, hiding from his own truth, despite the soft, errant bucking of his hips, as he wills their tryst to continue. 

Alright. If Souichi wants to play hard to get, then Tetsuhiro can certainly kick this game up a notch. 

Taking it up a notch, however, means that he decides to set his mind on craving the sight of Souichi coming _untouched_. 

He carefully sets the lit candle upon the nightstand, able to turn his full attention to the needy little ball of fury and hormones prostrate across his own bed. He’s still grumbling beneath his breath, despite the fine tremble in his hands where he strokes his own skin across his abdomen, as though to gain any semblance of contact. “How do you feel?” Tetsuhiro asks quietly, as he allows his hands to roam downwards, swiping up the skin of Souichi’s thighs to his knees, where they bracket him in. 

However, Souichi must still be in a stubborn mood, for he does not immediately respond, and focuses on his breathing, as though to will his incessant erection down some. “Can you just,” is what he says in a tiny voice, as he hides behind his hands and his own embarrassment, “just…”

An eyebrow raise. “Just? Just what, Senpai?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, dipping his head to lave the flat of his tongue over a wax-speckled nipple, corkscrewing a spit-slick fist up the darkened head of Souichi’s cock. The blond chokes loudly on a moan, the full length of his body jerking in shock as he grapples onto the thick of the man’s hair, needing something to hold onto. This time, the contact doesn’t let up, the wet chafe of a thumb sliding over his frenulum in frantic, desperate swipes, and Souichi cannot stop shaking.

He is unable to stop a loud, gasping, pleading moan from spilling from his lips, eyes tearing as he feels his loins beginning to coil once more. “Oh, _God_ ,” he gasps out, throwing his head back as he grips for purchase upon Tetsuhiro’s sweaty skin. “God, don’t - _don’t_ \- ”

As Tetsuhiro sinks his teeth delicately into his soft areola, quickening his strokes with a filthy, soaked press as he tightens his grip a little, Souichi distantly feels the burning, _scalding_ drip of wax among the fog. It trails, first, from the sensitive skin of his inner thigh - where the muscle is looser, and the flesh is thinner, there - and slowly, mischievously, begins to streak dangerously closely to - 

Tetsuhiro pulls back, loosening his grip to tease him with wet, soft contact, and tilts the candle forward. The first few droplets land upon Souichi’s perineum, spit-slick and exposed where his legs have spread, causing him to gurgle in pleasure. “Tetsu - ” he gasps desperately, unable to take it anymore. The second set of drops land a little bit higher, upon the creased skin of his scrotum, pulling it taut, and Souichi cums - _screaming_ , bewildered, and _crying_.

Tetsuhiro strokes him through it, thoroughly admiring the way his flushed skin has rosied happily as his bodily needs have finally been satiated, despite his obduracy. “There,” he coos. “Was that so bad?”

Needless to say, Souichi is sure he will never be asking Tetsuhiro to come over and help tutor Kanako _again_.


End file.
